


Only With Your Clothes On

by paperscribe



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 06:38:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2378516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperscribe/pseuds/paperscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lewis lends Hathaway a shirt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only With Your Clothes On

James was having a bad night. Sometimes it happened. He would be home, having a glass of wine and reading, and it wouldn't be enough. The wine wouldn't satisfy; the book wouldn't hold his attention. Nothing on television could interest him, and when he tried to sleep, it was long before true relaxation came.

Tonight was the same, but tonight he didn't feel he could manage on his own, which was why he found himself knocking on Lewis's door at eleven-thirty.

Lewis opened the door. "Come in."

"Thanks," James said.

Lewis knew by now not to ask the questions James wouldn't want to answer. So he didn't ask if James was all right, or what was wrong. He simply took some bedding from the hall cupboard.

"Couch all right?" Lewis asked.

James nodded. "Thanks." He arranged the bedding the way heliked it, and was just standing up when something landed on the sofa with a soft thwump. James picked up the item, which was a worn, soft T-shirt.

"You won't want to sleep in those," Lewis said, gesturing to the work clothes James was still wearing.

James had slept in his clothes loads of times, but this shirt did seem much more comfortable. "Thank you."

After Lewis wandered back to bed, James stripped down to his boxers, pulling Lewis's T-shirt over his head. Clearly this T-shirt had been well-loved; James ran his fingers over the softened, thinned fabric.

He crawled beneath the covers, finding it oddly reassuring to be surrounded by things that were Lewis's--sheets, blankets, clothes. They felt like talismans, as though all these things could evoke Lewis's presence, and Lewis would in turn send away James's melancholy thoughts and bad dreams.

James was asleep within minutes of turning off the light.

***

The next morning, James woke at dawn and left before Lewis's alarm sounded. He considered leaving a brief note of thanks, but decided against it. Lewis would understand the significance of what he had done, and he didn't generally like to be thanked either.

At work, everything was much the same. Neither James nor Lewis mentioned what had happened the night before. Things were normal…or at least normal as they'd ever been.

James was undressing that night when he realised that, in his hurry, he'd brought Lewis's T-shirt home with him.

 _I'll wash it before I give it back to him,_ James decided. _He'd want to wash it anyway._

And as he was going to wash it, he might as well wear it again tonight. As it was already dirty. Purely a practical decision.

James held the shirt before his face and inhaled. It still held the scent of Lewis's detergent, which James had come to regard as somewhat comforting, given how often he was in close proximity to Lewis.

 _Just one more night,_ James thought, putting on the shirt. _Then I'll give it back._

***

It was all too easy for James to keep from returning Lewis's shirt. "Just one night" because "just one week" and then "just until it doesn't smell like him any more." When James found himself wearing it after having washed it with his own things, he finally had to admit to himself that he didn't want to give it back at all.

One night, in the middle of the night, James was awakened by a knock on his door. Outside, he found Lewis, looking exhausted. He let him in and made him tea, and Lewis was nursing said tea by the time he looked at James and frowned.

"What?"

"Is that my shirt?" Lewis said.

Oh, bollocks. He'd forgotten.

James grimaced, nodding. He wanted to explain, but at this point, he'd no idea what to say.

Lewis nodded in turn, clearly mulling something over. "Can I have one of yours?"

James's mouth almost fell open. "What?"

Lewis squirmed slightly. "Not…not if you don't want. Obviously I won't wear it. I just thought I'd like having something of you with me."

James couldn't help smiling. That was it, of course. That was how James felt exactly.

"I'll get you one," James said.

***

When James woke the next morning and wandered out to the kitchen, Lewis was still asleep on the sofa, hugging James's black Run DMC shirt tightly to him.

James suspected that shirt might somehow vanish from his collection after today. And that thought made him incredibly happy.


End file.
